


Haunt Me In My Sleep

by lakesandquarries



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, i love this idiots and i love how much they love each other, i've got a new hyperfocus and its bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 14:00:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20047210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lakesandquarries/pseuds/lakesandquarries
Summary: Not all nights are peaceful, and nightmares affect angels too.





	Haunt Me In My Sleep

Aziraphale does not do anything as impolite as waking up screaming. When Crowley wakes up, Aziraphale is sitting up, breathing hard, hand clamped over his mouth to muffle any sound, clearly trying not to wake Crowley. A small part of him is tempted to go back to sleep - Aziraphale will be devastated to see his hard work has failed - but a much larger part of him wants nothing more than to hold his angel close and destroy whatever has him so upset. 

  


“Aziraphale,” he says quietly, voice thick with sleep. Aziraphale nearly jumps, turning to Crowley. “Darling, what's wrong?”

  


“Nothing,” Aziraphale says quickly - too quickly. Crowley pushes himself up to a sitting position, turning the bedside light on with a snap of his fingers.

  


“Angel, you’re a terrible liar.”

  


“I had a nightmare,” Aziraphale says, looking down at the bed. His hands have migrated, now focused on gripping the blanket as tightly as possible. “Nothing to concern yourself with. Go back to sleep.”

  


“Stop worrying about me so much,” Crowley says. “I don't even need sleep, and even if I did, you're far more important to me.” He places a hand on Aziraphale’s knee only for Aziraphale to flinch hard, like the contact burned. Crowley pulls his hand away, trying not to let his hurt show on his face. “Angel, talk to me.”

  


A choked noise escapes Aziraphale, but no words come with it. 

  


“Look at me, dearest?” 

  


  


Aziraphale turns to him, wiping frantically at his eyes.

  
“Whatever you saw in your dream, it wasn't real. I'm fine, the world is fine. We're alright.”

  


“I killed you,” Aziraphale whispers. 

  


“What?”

  


“I - Heaven was - they wanted to hurt you, to hurt me by hurting you, they told me they could do so much worse than just kill you and I was scared, scared and _weak_ -”

  


Aziraphale isn't looking at him. He's staring at the blanket, periodically glancing at Crowley, but not _seeing_ him.

  


“It wasn't real, Angel. Just a nightmare. I’m fine, see?” 

  


Aziraphale reaches out, laying a hand on Crowley’s face. Crowley takes the hand in his, kissing it gently. 

  


“Just a nightmare,” Aziraphale repeats. The fog he'd been lost in seems to have lifted, and he pulls his hand back, face going red. “Oh, dear, what time is it? Terribly sorry for all that, I'm just going to -”

  


“Stay right here?” Crowley reaches for his hand again. “You don’t need to be embarrassed.”

  


“I'm not _embarrassed_,” Aziraphale says quietly. “They won’t stay away forever, you know. Eventually, Heaven and Hell will come back for us and they won’t use Hellfire and Holy Water again. I can’t bear the idea of you being hurt.”

  


It's so like Aziraphale to only concern himself with Crowley’s wellbeing and spare not a single thought for himself. “We’ll work something out, like we always do. Now, stop scooting to the edge of the bed. I'm cold.”

  


Aziraphale smiles, shaky and small, but it's better than the devastated expression he'd had only moments before. It's short-lived, unfortunately, though Aziraphale does at least scoot closer to Crowley.

  


“I've never had a dream like that before,” he says, leaning his head against Crowley. “When I've seen Heaven in my dreams before, they've been...forgiving.”

  


That's the last word Crowley would ever use to describe Heaven, but he doesn't dare interrupt. 

  


“I don't think they've ever truly liked me,” Aziraphale says, so casually that it's clearly forced. “Last I saw them I was told I was ‘a pathetic excuse for an angel’. Makes me wonder how long they’ve been thinking it.”

  


“They're idiots, if they think that. You're better than every single one of them.” There’s much more Crowley wants to say, none of it appropriate. It’s a miracle angels can get anything done, if their heads are so far up their asses that they think _Aziraphale_ is anything less than perfect. 

  


“I've never been afraid of them before,” Aziraphale says quietly. “Or at least, not afraid to this extent. I thought - well, maybe they could be cruel, maybe Gabriel made fun of me and maybe no one really respected me but -”

  


“They were family,” Crowley says.

  


Aziraphale nods. “They were supposed to be family. What kind of family tries to kill you?”

  


“At least in Hell we're more open about not respecting each other,” Crowley mutters to himself, running his hand through Aziraphale’s hair. 

  


“I tried so hard to make them see, to make them understand. For six thousand years I tried, and in the end, the best I can hope for is to never see them again.” Aziraphale’s tone is light, but his voice catches. He really is an awful liar. 

  


“Well, screw them all. We're on our own side now. No one to report to, no quotas to fill, no stupid rules. And if anyone comes looking for us, we can take ‘em, can't we? We stopped _Armageddon_.”

  


“As I recall, we didn’t actually do much.”

  


“They don’t know that. As far as they're aware, we were instrumental.”

  


Aziraphale laughs, a little wet but still the most beautiful thing Crowley's ever heard. Before he can overthink it, he leans down, pressing a kiss against the angel’s head. Aziraphale jolts a bit and Crowley pulls back, afraid he's made a mistake, only for Aziraphale to place a hand on his face.

  


“Come closer. I'm cold,” he says, with a devious little smile.

  


“Well, if you insist.”

  


If Crowley is completely honest, Aziraphale is not the best kisser. His kisses are shy and hesitant, sometimes so light Crowley can hardly feel them, and yet the simple, gentle pressure has a way of making his entire soul light up. 

  


When Aziraphale pulls away, his cheeks are bright red, and he bites his lip as he looks at Crowley. It's so endearingly him that Crowley finds himself pulling Aziraphale closer, kissing him in places besides his lips. He kisses his nose and forehead and cheeks and even his eyelids, until Aziraphale is laughing, pushing Crowley away when he starts to go for his arms and chest. 

  


“Oh, no. I know where this is going.”

  


“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Crowley says, kissing Aziraphale’s ear. 

  


Aziraphale leans his head against Crowley’s chest, a beacon of warmth. “I think I’d like to go back to sleep,” he announces to Crowley’s shirt. 

  


“Wasn't it you that insisted sleep was just a waste of time?”

  


“I'm not afraid to admit to being wrong.” He tugs on Crowley’s shirt and Crowley obliges, falling against the pillow. 

  


“Thank you,” Aziraphale says softly, once the lights are off and both of them are once again lying in bed, wrapped up in each other.

  


“For?”

  


“For comforting me. For putting up with my idiocy for six thousand years.”

  


“It wasn't idiocy.”

  


“It was. How could I ever think a place that abandoned you was _good_?”

  


Crowley’s silent, startled by the sheer audacity of Aziraphale’s words. “Thank you,” he says finally, quietly. “We've both been idiots. But it all worked out in the end, didn't it?”

  


“That it did,” Aziraphale says softly.

  


In the morning, there will be things to worry about, plans to make, demons and angels to placate. But for now, there is just Aziraphale and Crowley, and there is peace.

**Author's Note:**

> first fic for this fandom! i got sucked in barely a week ago and already I've read the book and watched the show twice. Thank you for reading, and if you'd like to talk anout Good Omens or suggest prompts for more fics, my tumblr is lakesandquarries! Or just leave a comment here. Thanks for reading!
> 
> Title is from "Wolves Without Teeth" by Of Mice and Men.


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